Abnormal Days
by EeveeAlchemist2.0
Summary: When I say I'm different, I mean I'm a God Damned mutant freak. Half-Human, half-pokemon. My sort of different has everyone out to kill my brother and I. Escaping means survival. Being caught means death by law. If you're reading this, then prepare yourself. My name is Caleb Flynn, and this is my story. (Rating subject to change with later chapters, as well as story title.)
1. Prologue

**Hey guys! I've started actually writing again... Yeah, cue huge gasp of shock. For those of you who don't know me, my former account was under the name EeveeAlchemist. I'll be moving some of my stories from that account over to this one eventually, as I'm having personal problems over there. So... Yeah, those of you that know me, I'm not dead! Yay! xD**

**Those of you that don't know me, welcome! I'm just your normal average anime fanatic and gamer. I love to write and draw, and all that jazz, but you can find out more about me on my profile (Whenever I get the time to actually create a profile for you guys.). This story came from a roleplay that I was doing with my boyfriend. The roleplay events may come in later, but this is an individual story with some of the characters from it. I hope you all enjoy, and reviews would be very appreciated. They help me keep going and become a better writer. Please guys, just a few seconds to jot down a quick word of advice or approval means the world to me. **

**Without further ado, enjoy!**

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_Prologue_

From the moment I was born, I knew I was different.

Not that good sort of different, where everyone goes, "Oh, you're so special!" Not the sort where it makes you feel all gooey and mushy inside. That's all a bunch of crap. It's not necessarily the bad type you're thinking of either, where it's just a personality disorder or something like that.

My sort of different has everyone out to kill me. When I say different, I mean I'm a god damned mutant. Half-Pokemon, Half-Person. By day I'm a normal ten year old kid, living with my brother on the streets. We have no money to our name, so we can't afford a house like all of you spoiled brats out there. You guys have no idea what we go through. No idea at all. By night, I'm an electric blue mouse, or as you other kids might like to call them, a Minun. My brother is my opposite, a Plusle.

You're probably thinking something along the lines of, "Gee, that's a really… interesting story. How in the world did that happen?" Don't try to hide the fact that you think I'm lying.

Or, if you're a true nonbeliever, and you're not afraid to openly admit it, you're saying, "That's impossible. Go home to your mommy, kiddo, you don't belong here." Well, you're both right and you're wrong. You're right, I don't belong here. I was a mistake from the start. Mutant freaks can't exist on this Earth, not because we're different, but because you don't _allow_ us to exist. That's just the cruel thing about human nature. If someone is different, you can't stand it. You'll do everything possible to eradicate whatever is tainting your beautiful existence.

However, that's where you're also wrong. We're not all that different. We're still half human. We still live amongst you. We are still _very_ real. So go on, go on living in your fantasy world where everything is perfect and it's all sunshine and rainbows. Good for you.

Meanwhile, I'll be here in the shadows of your mind, fighting for my life, and everything I hold dear.

If you care enough to stick around, awesome. This journal might prove of some use to you. Take what I say seriously, because if you don't, it could mean the start to another Great Rebellion. And believe me, you definitely don't want that.

Prepare yourself.

My name is Caleb Flynn.

This is my story.

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**No set update time for this, I'll plan to get the next chapter up at some point next week. Please leave a review!**


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Caleb opened his eyes wearily, looking around the dark, empty cell. His body quivered with lack of rest, but he firmly ignored it and pushed himself from the floor into a sitting position. Yes, the floor. You could forget about things like beds in this place, or even a blanket. All you got _was_ cold, hard cement. This stupid cell had been Caleb's home ever since he could remember. His parents were non-existent; they had died, sold him and his brother, or something. Either way, they were taken away and their parents no longer mattered. So here he was. Left in a dark, wet cell with nothing but his brother and the scientists to keep him company.

Except his brother wasn't sleeping beside him.

Caleb started, getting shakily to his feet. He tried not to flinch at the sight of his mangled human body. His withered skin was barely distinguishable underneath all the dirt and dried blood caked upon it. His fingers were mostly bone, every curve horribly accented by the lack of skin surrounding them. The rags that had once covered his entire body were torn so that they just barely covered his pelvis, leaving him exposed and feeling dirty. His stark blue hair was heavily matted; he couldn't remember the last shower he had taken, it had probably been a few months at least. He lingered around the wall, using it for support only when he needed it. Hunger and dehydration had made him weak, but he refused to show it. He forced his tired, blurry eyes to examine the entire cell. No sign of his brother… Which could only mean the Whitecoats had entered while he was sleeping.

The name made his blood boil. Whitecoats were the name he and his brother had given the scientists who worked in the labs, for their long, signature white lab coats. They strutted around as if they owned the place, carrying around their clipboards and metal sticks, talking to each other with cruel smiles on their faces.

They treated Caleb and his brother as though they were dirty animals. Then again, that's exactly what they were.

He was a half-mutant. A genetically altered human who could transform into a certain Pokemon at will. In his case, he was a Minun, and Nick, ironically, was infused with the DNA of a Plusle. Undoubtedly, the bastards probably wanted to test out those "abilities" that Pokemon had, and thought it best that they use two brothers for two related Pokemon. Caleb had just turned ten last month, and since he had been stuck here since birth, had never once attended a day of school. Like he had ever been given the chance to learn about Pokemon, let alone be a trainer.

Even in human form, Caleb's senses were hypersensitive. It didn't come as any surprise to him that he could hear the Whitecoat coming from a good two hallways down. He drew in the surrounding scents through his nose, and was met with the acrid tang of blood, mixed with the scent of fear, and suffering. His eyes flicked back and forth through the cell, tracing the lines of blood on the floor that indicated their past struggles with the Whitecoats. They paused temporarily on a fresh streak near the cell door, marked with the lashings of claw marks and the fresh tang of blood. He snarled. His brother always went without complaint, knowing it would only cause further trouble. The Whitecoats just dragged him away for the pleasure of watching him suffer. They had always made it a favorite to torture them for the hell of it.

He remembered one particularly horrifying event, where they had trapped him with a Ditto, taken in the form of his little brother, and forced it to torture him. He still felt extremely violated, even though it had happened months ago.

No, you pedophiles, not like _that_. The Whitecoats at least had the decency to respect that Caleb and his brother were only ten years old. Though he wouldn't put it past them to immediately subject them to that kind of stuff the instant they turned sixteen.

He'd seen some pretty fucked up stuff, but the idea rape, or even possible incest, made him cringe. _Eughh_.

Caleb forced himself to stand up straight while the Whitecoat approached his cell. Doing his best to ignore the pit of dread he felt, he put on the fiercest mask he could, making sure his eyes were flaring and his scowl had deepened. He refused to show those miserable scientists any of the fear they so craved. It would give them satisfaction, something he was unwilling to give them. Plus, it'd make his own self image look bad. Something he wouldn't be caught dead doing. He pulled his lips back into a sneer, ignoring the pain even that little gesture caused, and spoke. "Hey there, Chemmy."

The scientist ground her teeth, her bright green eyes glaring daggers at him. Pretty with short black hair and a stout body, she was a chemist who came to observe and take samples from the brothers daily. "It's Camille. Don't talk to me, Number 23."

_Number 23_. Caleb scoffed at his subject name. He much preferred his birthright name. "Come on, babe, you love talking to me and you know it. Why else would you come to visit me every day?"

Camille gave him a dirty glare, and he inwardly smirked. He did try to control his smart mouth. But around these guys? He could give less of a fuck. He waited patiently as she drew a short, irritated breath. "If I never saw you again, rodent, it would be too soon. I came to see if you were still breathing. Unfortunately, you are. So my work here is done."

Could she have said that with any more malice? "I'll be here all week."

She sneered. "Oh, I know you will."

Caleb heaved an irritated sigh. Time to get straight to the point. "While you're here… Mind telling me what hellhole you've dragged my brother off to today?"

She arched an eyebrow at him. "He's off in the dark room."

"Please tell me you mean the labs, and not the term all the kids these days are using."

Camille snorted in response to his comment, and he couldn't help but smirk back. He hated the Whitecoats with a burning passion, but Camille, whether she liked to admit it or not, had obviously taken a liking to the brothers. Why else would she have requested to be their "personal" chemical researcher?

However, his smirk faltered slightly at her grim face. "Yeah, he's in the labs. The sight isn't pretty. They've got him hooked up to the power system, working for the generators."

_What?_

By the way Camille nervously stepped towards the door, Caleb knew he couldn't have hidden his surprise and fury very well. Electric types like themselves were sometimes used as power sources for the labs' generators, if the power were to ever go out or malfunction. It was a punishment, one of the roughest ones, saved for the highest of crimes.

Nick would have never done anything to deserve it.

Camille casted him a nervous glance from her spot by the door, reading his mind. "Apparently, they took him because he refused to participate in one of the tests. Couldn't tell you which one, I wasn't there."

Yeah, right. They had just done it for their personal enjoyment. Like everything else they ever did to him. Caleb himself, he deserved punishment because he actively pissed off the Whitecoats. Nick, however, never did anything to them. It made his blood boil.

He gave her a sharp look. "Thought any more about possibly letting me go?"

Camille snorted again. "No way. I like my job, as sadistic as that sounds."

Of course she did.

Caleb sighed gently, slumping along the wall of his cell. Worry for his brother wasn't a feeling he wasn't used to, but still, it overtook his emotions every time. Nick was his only family. Losing his brother would be the end of him.

He watched Camille take a step towards him, into his cell.

The lights cracked, blinked, and went out at exactly the same time.

_Fantastic_.

Caleb immediately lowered himself to the ground, wincing under Camille's screams of outrage and surprise. He quickly reverted back to his "hypersensitive" mode, scoping out all of the scents and sounds he could. Though the room was pitch black, he could hear the screams of other Pokemon in surrounding cells, and the distant blaring of sirens and alarms. The tumbling and crashing of equipment bounced off the far right corridors and to his ears, and he alarmingly smelled the acrid tang of smoke. That couldn't be good.

All he had to do now was _see_.

Caleb groaned, then, succumbing to his better judgement, decided it was for the best.

He would have to transform.

No matter how painful it was.

The ten year old crouched on the cold cement floor, curling himself into a bit of a ball. He shut his eyes tightly, then allowed himself to undergo his transformation. Instantly, his body began to convulse and twitch involuntarily. Pain flashed through his body like lightning, and he was unable to hold back a short, but loud scream. Finally, he felt his rags begin to sag around his shrinking body, and the ground seem to rise to meet him. He felt his head become heavy and his body become lighter, and felt the unfamiliar sensation of another muscle on his backside, pushed down by the now uncomfortable, heavy clothing he wore. The transformation seemed to last for hours on end. Until finally, the pain ceased, and he was allowed to breathe.

Caleb let himself recover for only a second before crawling out from beneath the soiled rag he had once called a shirt. He stumbled over the lining of it, cursing as he struggled to return to the unfamiliar quadrupedalism that his Minun form used. His forepaws shook lamely as he placed them on the ground, trying to balance his weight across all four of his legs. He shook out his elongated ears, and stretched his newly formed tail, wiggling it experimentally.

Not bad for his first attempt at transforming on his own.

"Freeze, Twenty-Three!"

_Oh boy_. Caleb flinched and turned to face Camille and her annoyingly high pitched screeching. His eyes widened slightly at the tazer looking object she had in her hands, pointed straight at him. He flashed her a grin, then drawled. "Come on, baby, can't we play nicely?"

Yeah, he could speak too. That was how most of the mutants were captured daily. If a Pokemon could speak, it most likely meant they were part of the experiments.

Camille grinned back at him widely, and Caleb hoped for the best.

Her finger squeezed the trigger. He just barely dodged the screaming volts of electricity in time; an impossible feat for a human and most other Pokemon. He had been trained in speed. He would thank the Whitecoats for that later.

Caleb took his chance as Camille reloaded, darting across the cell and through her legs, towards the door, which Camille had so graciously left wide open.

Hallelujah!

He was almost there, too, when a wall of Whitecoats suddenly blocked his path, all of them staring him down. Each of them were armed with needles, tasers, and weird metal sticks that he couldn't recognize.

What else could go wrong?

"_Brother, help_!"

Yep. This day royally sucked.


End file.
